


finishing touches

by helicases



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: (Very mild), Canon Compliant, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mirror Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helicases/pseuds/helicases
Summary: Soonyoung just wants Chan to see what he sees when he looks at him.





	finishing touches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [super](https://archiveofourown.org/users/super/gifts).

> I'm two to four months late, but it's here. this one is for robin. thanks for enabling and encouraging me. sometimes, what you ask for, you get.
> 
> (many thanks to maharlika for the beta)

Most of the time, Chan’s broadcast and stage personalities are endearing and entertaining, especially when one watches Jihoon’s expression carefully for a reaction or deliberate lack thereof. Right now, though, it just makes Soonyoung furious. He almost wishes Minghao hadn't carefully plucked the pen from his hands; Soonyoung thinks snapping it in half might have eased some of the tension in his shoulders or, at the very least, caught Chan's attention. Forced a flicker to cross the brittle, smiling facade of their allegedly indomitable Dino, self-PR master and Maknae on Top. Soonyoung wants to scream, but a sideways glance from Seungcheol makes him bite his lip hard. 

Instead, Soonyoung follows Chan backstage, watching as he laughs and ducks out from under Seokmin and Jeonghan’s arms. 

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Chan says, voice loud and bright. 

“Bullshit,” Soonyoung scoffs. 

Chan cuts a sharp glance in his direction and deliberately steals Soonyoung's bottle of tea from one of the tables. He maintains eye contact while he swallows, one brow quirked as if daring Soonyoung to protest. He can have the tea—he can have anything at all—as far as Soonyoung is concerned. Anything but this. 

“That was unpleasant,” Seungkwan says conversationally, eyeing Jeonghan and Seokmin, who haven't stepped away from Chan’s side. 

“That's an understatement,” Soonyoung spits. 

“I don't understand why you're so worked up about this,” Chan says, screwing the cap back on the bottle and tossing it at Soonyoung. It hits him square in the chest, much like Chan's next words. “I'm fine.”

He's not, and the muted, wounded sound Jeonghan makes only emphasizes how all of them know he's lying. 

**

With thirteen members and assorted staff, it's a challenge to keep track of everyone on a good day. Tonight, it's even more difficult to keep an eye on Chan. Every time someone tries to catch him for a moment—presumably to do what Soonyoung is trying to do, and check in and check up on him—Chan disappears. There's a flicker and a hollow laugh and then the Chan-shaped space next to them is empty. 

The last time Soonyoung catches more than a glimpse of Chan, they're all piled into a room together, ostensibly for team bonding but really just because Seungcheol wanted everyone nearby for Chan's sake. Just in case. It doesn't seem to matter, though. He's still in Bangchan mode, keeping his emotions guarded behind a false positive grin. He'd slipped into it when the fan event went sour and hasn't slipped back out. The only chinks in his fan-ready, falsely unbothered armor took the form of bright smiles when someone actually paid attention to him. Soonyoung still wants to scream, feels it like a persistent itch under his skin, but Chan cuts them off every time someone tries to bring up the handshake line.

“I had a good time with Carats today,” Chan is insisting, lying through his teeth, and Soonyoung twists the corners of the throw pillow in his hands. This time, Mingyu is the one to take it from him before he can permanently squash it beyond recognition. 

“I'm going to go shower, maybe turn in early for once,” Chan finishes, giving a jaunty salute and disappearing once more. 

His shower is long, the way Soonyoung’s get when he's weary down to his bones and feeling the crushing weight of expectation and mild depression closing in on him. Soonyoung doesn't see Chan again, so he slips on a pair of sneakers well past midnight, tugs a dust mask and a dark hat on, and heads to the company building. 

He hums to himself as the elevator brings him closer to performance unit’s favorite practice rooms. Sure enough, he can feel the low thump of a bass line radiating out from one of the cracked open doors. Soonyoung peers in and only swings the door fully open in the lull between musical drops. He wants to check on Chan, not scare the shit out of him and possibly injure him mid-dance practice. 

Chan's eyes flick up and meet Soonyoung's in the mirror, but he quickly averts his gaze, turning away and frowning. Soonyoung watches him stretch and double check his extensions for the last block of the choreography. It looks good so far, most likely for another Danceology segment. Chan looks frustrated though, finally tired enough to show signs of anything other than broadcast-appropriate cheer. 

“Dino-yah,” Soonyoung calls with a pout that has a 50 to 75% success rate with the rest of the members, depending on the day and how much of a whine Soonyoung weaves through his words. “Come home. It's late.”

Chan gives him the briefest of looks before turning back to face the mirrors, switching to a different track, and pocketing the small remote controlling the sound system. He’s not coming home, not yet, but he also doesn't tell Soonyoung to leave. Soonyoung will take it. 

He gets it. Soonyoung has ground himself down like this before, with practice as the pestle and his body the mortar. Practice is another way to distract yourself, but there's a fine line between hard work and grinding until the mortar and pestle both shatter under pressure. Soonyoung knows that line well and feels a phantom, sympathetic twinge in his shoulder, so he stays. He scoops a journal out of one of the drawers and crosses the room to sink down against a far wall. Soonyoung alternates between scribbling haphazard choreography notes and watching Chan move. 

Chan runs through blocks of choreography for multiple songs, switching gears quick enough for it to feel like a medley if it wasn't so disjointed. The rapid pace makes the furrow in Chan’s brow more pronounced and makes Soonyoung more restless. Soonyoung takes off his hat and scrubs a hand through his hair before replacing it, standing, and starting to pace around one side of the room. 

He knows the pacing is probably distracting, but Chan’s focus has always been one of his strengths. Soonyoung's had a lot of practice watching the other members—performance unit especially—and he can tell Chan is tired, though. It's clear in the tension along the line of Chan’s back, and in the way his turns are more fluid but not in an intentional way. He's not following through with his movements, and any minute now, he’ll start to crack further. Soonyoung bites his lip and turns on his heel to resume pacing. 

There's a quiet huff and a thud behind Soonyoung when Chan drops into a chair and turns off the music. Soonyoung’s pacing brings him back around to see Chan tapping away on his phone and carefully avoiding looking up. 

Soonyoung crosses his arms and waits.

“How did it look?” Chan asks, after a considerable and heavy silence. 

“Which part?” Soonyoung winces when he hears the sharp edge of his tone, but he doesn't back down. 

The corners of Chan’s mouth twist and Soonyoung watches his jaw clench. “Any of it,” he says, still refusing to look at Soonyoung.

“Frustrating,” Soonyoung says. 

“ _ Which part _ ?” Chan spits back. There's a glint in his eyes, one that Soonyoung recognizes from the times performance team practices together and seeks feedback. It's different tonight, though—sharper and angry. Soonyoung can work with that. 

“The first one was solid until your misstep during the bridge. You have to follow through when you move. You know that,” Soonyoung says. Chan's shoulders curl in and his head drops lower. That's the second non-broadcast-approved emotion he's showed, so Soonyoung continues in the same vein. “The next, what, three songs? Those could be a medley if you tied the transitions together a little more. I liked it, or at least what I could see. You didn't give me much to work with.”

“So it wasn't good enough,” Chan mumbles.

Soonyoung frowns, but Chan can't—won’t—see that. “What was that? Speak up.”

“I said,” Chan clears his throat, but his voice still cracks, “I wasn't— _ it _ wasn't good enough.”

Soonyoung watches his jaw work as he processes the slip up, and thinks  _ Oh, that just won't do. _

“The choreography might not be complete now, but why would you think that means you're not good enough?” Soonyoung asks, even though he knows the answer. 

Chan bites his lip, worries it between his teeth, and doesn't reply. 

“Channie,” Soonyoung says, and Chan lets it drop, bottom lip red and shiny. 

“What if—” he begins, and Soonyoung waits several breaths for him to continue. Chan exhales heavily and says to the ground, “what if I'm never good enough?”

He curls in on himself slowly, like  _ mimosa pudica _ , like he's been pushed, like he thinks he'll be scolded. Soonyoung supposes that is not an unreasonable assumption, given how Soonyoung just snapped at him, but it still rankles him. 

“Of course you are. You will—you can be,” Soonyoung says, and the way Chan curls up tighter lights something up within Soonyoung's chest. 

It hurts. 

**

_ Soonyoung remembers the pain, and he remembers pushing through it. He remembers the rest of them surrounding him because the choreography called for it, and he remembers trying to straighten up and stand tall as the song ended. The only thing he was thinking about, aside from the burning, was finishing the performance. He couldn't let them down, not like this, not again—not ever. But still, he rushed offstage, clutching his arm and trying not to cry. _

_ He comes back, body sore with more than just the usual aches from performing, his shoulder popped back into place. Soonyoung ignores the twelve concerned faces on stage, and he tries his best to tune out the ending ments, listening only enough to know when to react and when to speak up. The pain helps, gives him something to focus on that isn't the way everyone keeps hovering.  _

_ By the end, people call him a phoenix and oh, how he burns.  _

_ It's not until later—after team barbecue and hype on camera that Soonyoung provides out of habit and because he wants things to feel  _ normal _ —that Soonyoung feels a small hand at his waist. He startles, and the sudden movement tugs something hot and sharp through his shoulder.  _

_ “Ah, Hoshi-hyungie, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” says Chan, sheepish.  _

_ Soonyoung turns to him, teeth bared in a grin to hide the way it hurts. “I don't scare easily,” he says with his customary bravado.  _

_ Chan frowns, but lets the lie pass without comment. That, more than anything, motivates Soonyoung to twist away from Chan, losing the warm brand against Soonyoung’s waist.  _

_ “Hyung, wait—”  _

_ “I'll see you in the room,” Soonyoung calls back as he picks up speed in his retreat. “Shower.” _

_ If he slams a fist into the shower wall upstairs, frustrated, with hot tears at the corners of his eyes, no one is there to see. _

_ It's easy, under the warm spray, to scrub at his eyes and let his mind wander back to the performance. Soonyoung knows they filled the gap. They're goddamn professionals, of course they did. But how easily did they slot puzzle pieces into place while medical staff assessed Soonyoung and contemplated popping his shoulder back into position? Was it painless? Thoughtless and simple? Or did it burn the way Soonyoung's throat did as he swallowed down the sobs that threatened to escape when staff put him back together? Was it natural and instinctive, like how Soonyoung pasted on a smile and insisted that yes, that went well, and he could surely go back on stage? Did it matter that he was out as long as he was, or that they had to rearrange the schedule so suddenly to accommodate? Did  _ he _ matter? _

_ A knock on the bathroom door makes him jump.  _

_ “I'm here,” Chan calls, muffled in the distance, and Soonyoung is back again, still wary and frustrated, but present.  _

_ He towels himself dry as much as possible and wraps himself in a plush, hotel robe with just a pair of briefs and shorts underneath—the only articles of clothing he could pull on and still keep quiet. Arm cradled tight against his body, Soonyoung emerges from the bathroom.  _

_ “Hey,” Chan says, soft and open, and Soonyoung’s wariness flickers. “I brought snacks.” _

_ Soonyoung snorts, sitting on the edge of one of the beds. “We just ate.” _

_ “That's never stopped us before,” Chan fires back.  _

_ This is more familiar. Soonyoung starts to relax further, but a glimpse of Chan’s expression makes his scowl return. “If I take them from you, will you stop looking at me like that?” _

_ “Like what?” Chan schools his features into something determinedly neutral, and honestly, that's worse.  _

_ “Like I'm  _ done _ .” Soonyoung’s voice cracks despite his best efforts to maintain a sharp edge. He's too brittle, too prone to fracture, eyes back on the ground and hoping it will swallow him whole.  _

_ “You're not,” Chan says, sounding much closer than he was before. Soonyoung refuses to look up, picking at the folds of his robe, but he can feel Chan settling down somewhere behind him on the bed.  _

_ “It's my fault,” Soonyoung says.  _

_ “No.” _

_ “I should have—” _

_ “No. Come here,” Chan demands.  _

_ “What kind of disrespect—” _

_ “Maybe you'll get more respect when you've earned it,” Chan snaps. He puts a hand on the side of Soonyoung's neck and pulls. The fight goes out of him abruptly, and Soonyoung lets Chan maneuver him down to lay with his head in his lap.  _

_ “Does that mean I've lost it?” Soonyoung asks. Chan hums, noncommittal, and moves his hand from Soonyoung's neck up into his hair.  _

_ “You've lost a lot,” Chan says, combing his fingers through Soonyoung's hair, “but there's a lot you  _ can't _ lose.” _

_ “Have you been reading proverbs with Wonwoo again?”  _

_ “Shut up, hyung. Listen.” _

_ Soonyoung presses his cheek harder into Chan’s thigh, and Chan wiggles until they're both more comfortable. It's hard to focus like this, warm at every point of contact between them, but Chan's voice commands attention and Soonyoung is nothing if not weak for him.  _

_ “You lost a few songs. It sucked. We carried on. It wasn't the same but it was still  _ us _ . We've worked too hard for anything else to be true out there, no matter what. But we want you with us, too,” Chan says. His hand stills for a moment, fingers warm at Soonyoung's nape. “I want you out there. But I want you to be okay too. I mean it, you know, when I say you're a good performance leader. That's why we can fill in, because we trained for that. That doesn't mean we want it.” _

_ “Was it easy?” Soonyoung says, more to Chan’s knee than to Chan, because his knee can't give him that look. His knee can't judge him.  _

_ Chan taps his fingers against the shell of Soonyoung's ear as he thinks and Soonyoung shivers.  _

_ “Yes and no.” _

_ “Okay,” Soonyoung says quietly. _

_ “Is it?” _

_ Soonyoung rolls over, careful not to put pressure on his shoulder, and peers up at Chan. The corners of his mouth are curled up, cute as ever, and Soonyoung is struck with how badly he wants to kiss him.  _

_ “Use your words, even if you can't use your arms,” Chan teases, and Soonyoung laughs genuinely for the first time since they left the stage for the night. Maybe it's coincidence, meds finally kicking in, but his shoulder stops aching quite so much.  _

_ “It's not,” Soonyoung admits, turning back over so Chan can resume playing with his hair. “But thank you.” _

_ “Someone has to keep you in line. Remind you.” _

_ Eventually, Soonyoung drifts off, lulled by the low hum of the window aircon unit and the slow sweep of Chan's fingers through his hair.  _

_ He wonders when Chan, their maknae—his baby, he hears Jeonghan insist—got so smart. Soonyoung wonders if Chan knows how much he's grown. He can't protect Chan from everything, and Chan wouldn't let him anyway. But Soonyoung can try to ease his pain—or at least distract him—the way Chan does for him when everything is too much. If Soonyoung has to spend the rest of their time together reminding Chan that he's good, important and loved, when fans and journalists suggest otherwise, well…Soonyoung can do that.  _

**

In the practice room, Soonyoung drops to his knees; a sharp inhale is the only indication that Chan is paying attention to him and not just to his phone or to the floor. He places careful hands on Chan's knees, watching for a reaction from under the brim of his hat. Soonyoung slides one palm up slowly, focusing half on the drag of Chan's sweatpants, stretched taut across his thighs, and half on the stutter step in Chan's breath. 

“Can I show you?” Soonyoung asks, and instead of glancing away, he lets himself stare at the long line of Chan's throat as he gulps. Lets himself get caught watching, and feels a warm flush spread high across his cheeks, even as Chan averts his eyes again. 

“You—you don't have to. I'm fine, Hoshi-hyung,” Chan mumbles to the floor to Soonyoung’s left. 

A low rumble starts deep in Soonyoung’s chest and the hand high up on Chan's thigh tightens. “I'm not here because I  _ have _ to be, Chan-ah,” Soonyoung says. 

They're not on stage now—there are no cameras trained on them, but Soonyoung still wants to put on a show. He swipes his thumb along the top of Chan’s thigh and back down, slowing the drag and increasing pressure when he reaches his inseam.

“Let hyung show you how good you are.”

Chan is compact and dense (and wonderfully so), but Soonyoung hasn't joined Jihoon in his terrible workout schedule for nothing. He hooks his arms around the legs of the chair and lifts, pivoting until he can see Chan’s profile clearly in the mirror. The thud as the chair legs hit the ground jolts Chan into finally making eye contact with Soonyoung for more than a few seconds. 

“Good,” Soonyoung says, voice low. “Eyes on me.”

He stands slowly, hands dragging back down Chan’s thighs as he steps away. Soonyoung locks the practice room door and stops by the sound system to put on another song. He taps back through them until he finds the one he wants, and turns to face Chan again. His cheeks are flushed but Chan doesn't look away. 

“This one, I liked,” Soonyoung says, approaching Chan again. “I just wish you'd…finished.” 

Up close now, Soonyoung can see the sweat still glistening on Chan's skin. He places one finger under his chin and Chan tilts his head back obediently. 

“That's okay, though,” Soonyoung continues, pressing his thumb against Chan’s bottom lip. “Hyung is here to help.”

It's satisfying, the way Chan’s eyes widen and go dark as Soonyoung sinks to his knees, slower than before. He can feel the bass thudding through the floorboards, and he taps out a matching beat on Chan’s calf, thigh, hip. He tightens his grip when he reaches Chan’s waist and marvels at the hitch in his breath. Even with the music playing, he can hear Chan clearly. 

“Perfect,” Soonyoung says aloud, and Chan shivers, eyes slipping shut. “Eyes open,” Soonyoung warns, pinching his side to hear him gasp.

Soonyoung takes his time untucking Chan's shirt and pushing it up out of the way. He lightly drags his nails down Chan's chest and files away the choked off sound Chan makes. Soonyoung scoots forward and follows the path of his hands with his mouth, pressing open mouthed kisses down the center of Chan's torso. When Soonyoung reaches his waistband, he tucks two fingers under it and tilts his head back to gaze up at Chan. 

Chan's eyes are dark, glassy, and his lips are red where he's bitten them. The urge to kiss Chan hits him like a bullet train, but Soonyoung isn't far gone enough to forget that this is about Chan right now. He has a mission, if you will. Instead, Soonyoung presses a palm against the steadily growing bulge in Chan’s sweatpants, licking his lips when Chan bites his lip harder. Soonyoung pulls on his waistband and his cock springs free, curving up and already leaking.

“Good?” Soonyoung asks, voice already rough. Chan nods and makes a strangled noise when Soonyoung grips him in hand and strokes hard. Chan bucks up, just a little, into Soonyoung's tight grip. When he exhales slowly over his cock, Chan's eyes flutter shut. 

“Ah ah,” Soonyoung chides, letting go, removing all points of contact despite how badly he wants to keep touching him. This only works the way Soonyoung wants it to if Chan can see. 

“You have to let me show you,” Soonyoung insists, “how good you are. How good you look.” 

Chan swallows heavily but doesn't respond, his stillness at odds with the way he falls into place when they practice or perform together. Usually this is where Chan would shrug him off, argue, or tease right back, but he looks wound up. Overwhelmed. It's a good look, and that stirs something deep in the pit of Soonyoung's belly. 

“Open your eyes,” Soonyoung says, more command than gentle suggestion, and he does. “See? Good.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Soonyoung sees Chan's hands clench, balling into fists at his sides. He smiles, finally pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of Chan’s cock. Soonyoung sits back and presses another kiss to his knee before removing his hat and tossing it aside. He tugs one of Chan’s hands closer and begins gently uncurling his fingers, one by one. He pulls Chan's arm forward by the wrist to deposit his hand against the back of his neck. Chan's eyes darken further but he stays still, rigid, holding his breath and staring. 

“Come on,” Soonyoung says, slouching so he can rest his chin on Chan’s knee. “ _ You can touch, touch me. Only you~ _ ” he sings. 

And that's what cracks the tension. 

Chan laughs, the sound rushing out with the breath he was holding, and his fingers finally slide into Soonyoung’s hair. The sound is contagious as ever, and Soonyoung muffles his responding giggle into Chan’s sweatpants. 

“There you are,” he says once he's straightened back up and Chan’s fingers have tightened experimentally in his hair. 

Before Chan has a chance to reply, Soonyoung leans in and swallows him down as far as he can go. The hand in his hair jerks, tugging the strands like he'd hoped, and Soonyoung moans. That earns him a full body shudder, and Soonyoung hollows his cheeks on the way up as a reward. He bobs up and down a few times, hands pressing down to keep Chan from fucking up into his mouth. They can save that for later, Soonyoung thinks. 

“Look at you,” he says when he pulls back with a pop, nodding toward the mirrored walls. Soonyoung takes advantage of Chan’s obedient shift in focus to hook his hands under his knees and tug him closer to the edge of the chair. A tap on his hips has Chan lifting them so Soonyoung can pull his pants down further for easier access. 

From there, the world narrows down to the heady weight of Chan’s cock in his mouth, his labored breathing, the glimpses Soonyoung gets of how  _ good _ they look like this in the mirrors, and the burn every time Chan pulls his hair. He wants to ask him to pull harder or to hold him down, but Soonyoung is trying not to be selfish right now. 

Chan gets quieter when he gets close, which is initially unexpected for someone who can be so loud, but the more Soonyoung thinks about it, the more it makes sense. If you do anything at all in a dorm with twelve other people, you learn to keep quiet. But Soonyoung can feel Chan’s legs trembling where he has his palms spread flat over his thighs. 

“ _ It's just the two of us _ ,” Soonyoung croons, licking a stripe up the underside of Chan’s cock. “Come on, let me hear you.”

“Fuck,” Chan breathes, more gasp than laugh this time, so close to the edge. His voice is rough and makes Soonyoung want desperately to wreck him, so he does. 

Chan’s eyes flutter shut when he comes down Soonyoung’s throat, and while he didn't follow instructions—he didn't watch, and he should have because Chan is  _ stunning _ like this—Soonyoung can't find it in him to complain. He swallows around Chan, working him through it until he twitches, sensitive, and pulls half-heartedly at Soonyoung's hair, trying to dislodge him. 

“Please.” Chan tips his head back, chest heaving. 

Soonyoung lets him go and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He tucks Chan back in once he's stopped shaking quite so hard, and then rests his head on Chan’s leg with a fond smile. 

“Hyung will always be there for you. You know that, right?” Soonyoung asks, nuzzling into Chan's thigh, much in the same way that he squishes their faces together in Vlives. 

Chan laughs, a beautiful, bright sound, and Soonyoung beams at him. When Chan runs a gentle thumb across Soonyoung's cheekbones, his smile softens further. 

“You look good, Chan-ah,” Soonyoung says, clearing his throat. Chan rolls his eyes, cheeks pink, and Soonyoung smacks his shin. “I mean it. You  _ are  _ good.”

“You too,” Chan says. 

“Did you like the view?” 

“Hyung—”

“Not that you were looking at the end. We can try that again another time,” Soonyoung smirks, trailing fingers along Chan’s inseam before dragging them low. “Or we can try now. Do you think you can go again?”

The corner of Chan's mouth curls up, rising to the challenge, but then Soonyoung's stomach growls and the moment passes. 

“What can I say? I'm just so  _ hungry _ for you,” he purrs, laughing when Chan swats at his face. “Fine, fine. Another time.” He nips at Chan’s thigh playfully, relishing the yelp he gets in return, and stands back up slowly to stretch out his legs. 

“Let’s go. Even though you didn't follow directions at the end, I'll treat you to snacks,” Soonyoung offers magnanimously when Chan stands as well.

“I was kind of preoccupied.”

“I thought our Channie was a champion multitasker,” Soonyoung teases, putting the sound system remote and his notebook away. 

“Aish, you're embarrassing.” 

“See if I ever blow you again.” Soonyoung sticks his tongue out at Chan as he unlocks the practice room door. “So ungrateful, after I helped you  _ finish _ and everything. And to think I was going to offer you another treat.”

Chan slings an arm around his neck, pulling him down until he can ruffle his hair roughly on the way to the elevator. “We both know  _ I'm _ the real treat.”

The intensity of Soonyoung's smile must be something to behold, because Chan blinks at him as though he's caught himself staring into bright lights. Soonyoung leads them out into the late night air, wind howling around them, and tucks Chan firmly against his side. 

“Yeah you are,” Soonyoung agrees, fully prepared to remind Chan if he ever forgets. Chan's answering smile is bright and warm and Soonyoung finds he doesn't feel the cold any more. 

“You really are.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/telomirage), where sometimes more soonchan yelling happens.


End file.
